


Safety Danse

by fullmetaldouche



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Mindless Fluff, No Plot/Plotless, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-17 17:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9335345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullmetaldouche/pseuds/fullmetaldouche
Summary: I've been playing a lot of Fallout 4 lately, and i just had so many ideas floating around my head that i needed to get on paper before i lost them. No guarantee that this will be interesting or written well, just some good ol' paladin danse themed bullshit.





	1. Relax

**Author's Note:**

> He always looks so tense. It makes me kind of sad.

Three months since banishment. Two months since their first kiss. One month since they told each other  _I love you_.

It's been a rough three months, of course, but they take it one step at a time. He seems to be feeling better every day, but Janie can tell that his past is still haunting him. She tries to give him the time he needs to cope, but it hurts her, seeing him struggle with himself so often. 

They've holed up at the old Red Rocket recently, cleaning it up and turning the small office into somewhat of a bedroom. Janie spends most of her time in the cramped space, curled up in the big red armchair Danse lugged over from one of the houses in Sanctuary, reading whatever she can get her hands on and drinking coffee (well, the wasteland's crude imitation of coffee). Danse, on the other hand, can usually be found in the garage, fixing up something or other, usually weapons or his Power Armor. Janie had convinced him not to wear it as much, but that didn't mean he shouldn't be keeping his new X0-1 in pristine condition.

He always comes out of the garage covered in dirt and oil, and Janie always puts down her book to shake her head at him and wipe his face down with a cloth, despite his protests. He's gotten quite used to it now, this day-to-day routine they've developed together. It feels almost domestic, and it gives him a sense of normalcy he hasn't felt since his banishment from the Brotherhood. He's not sure if he can even sleep properly anymore if Janie isn't there to sleep next to him, a small, reassuring warmth pressed against his chest. Their mornings are lazy and slow, neither of them being morning people, and they often stay in bed much longer than is probably acceptable. Danse finds that he doesn't really care. He feels...happy, when he's with her.

Of course, that doesn't mean he has completely come to terms with the drastic turn his life has taken. Occupied hands do nothing to stop his mind from running away with him, and he often finds himself completely disconnected from the task he originally set out to do. Janie notices this. One day, she enters the garage to see him fiddling with a clump of wires from an old, discarded suit of Power Armor. He's crouched down, facing away from her, and she creeps a little closer to get a better look at what he's doing. His fingers are moving, but from what Janie can see, he's only succeeding in tangling the wires more than they originally were.

"Hey." Her voice is soft when she speaks, but he jumps anyway. She places her hands on his broad shoulders and squeezes reassuringly. "What are you up to?"

Danse turns and stands up slowly, brushing the dirt off the knees of his jeans absentmindedly. Janie stands in front of him, waiting for an answer to her question. He looks at the pile of wires on the floor behind him, knotted beyond fixing, and then back at the brunette. "I...have no idea."

Janie's face softens immediately after he speaks, and he offers her a weak smile. "Oh, Danse..." She mumbles. "I'm sorry I can't do more to help."

"Don't apologize when you've done nothing wrong, Janie." A rough, calloused hand strokes her cheek. "You've done so much."

She shakes her head at him with a small smile, an action he has become all too familiar with since they became close. Without thinking, she cups his face with both hands. Stubble scratches against the sensitive skin of her palms. "You always look so tense. I just wish you would relax sometimes. Take a breather, you know?"

A small, sly smile creeps on to his lips when she says that. "Did we not stay in bed until noon today? And the day before?" She rolls her eyes at him. He's familiar with that, too.

"That's not what I'm taking about, stupid." Her thumbs begin to move, slowly brushing over his cheeks. Against his better judgement, Danse closes his eyes. Her fingers move to his forehead, smoothing out the lines that have formed there, a result of a constantly furrowed brow. Fingertips skim his eyebrows, moving to ghost over his eyelids and over the slight wrinkles at the corner of each eye. Every muscle she touches seems to lose its previous tension. Soon, she's back to rubbing his cheeks, but continues down to just barely touch his lips, slightly cracked from years spent in desolate wastelands. She massages the muscle in his jaw that's constantly twitching, getting him to stop grinding his teeth together, a subconscious habit that she often comments on.

Eventually there's pressure on his forehead, and he knows she's leaning her head on his. Danse's eyes crack open to meet vivid green ones, calm and intense all at the same time. He used to hate how it looked like she could see right through him. Now he doesn't mind being transparent.

It's not too long before he decides he's had enough of just staring. His body moves practically on its own, pressing their lips together with a gentleness usually not characteristic of a soldier. He reaches out and grabs her waist, pulling her towards him, and he can feel Janie smile against his lips. For being obsessed with protocols and decorum, he's awfully touchy.  

They pull away only for the cursed need of oxygen, and Danse is grinning at her when she opens her eyes. His face is aglow and he's out of breath, but his happiness is infectious. Janie can't help but laugh. " Feeling better?"

"Best I've ever felt. Outstanding."

His silly smile and almost juvenile enthusiasm makes her heart swell in her chest, and she wraps her arms around his neck, hugging him as tightly as she can, as if he might disappear if she lets go of him. He returns her embrace with just as much intensity.

His face is pressed into her hair. "I love you, Janie." 

The words are muffled but she can hear him loud and clear. 

 


	2. Orange-Colored Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> back on my bullshit after like a year lol

The number of ghouls converging on Danse's squad -- or what's left of it -- is quickly becoming overwhelming. Somewhere behind him, Danse hears Haylen's exclamation of pain as a ghoul strikes her with its mangled club of a hand, and he spares a quick moment to turn his back on the growing horde of ferals in front of him to help her. It only takes two shots to fell the abomination, but he sees a streak of blood smeared across the Scribe's face as she continues tending to Rhys, who's slumped against the side of the police station. His eyes are closed, and Danse hopes he's simply unconscious. This whole mission had been one huge mistake, every decision he made, every corner he turned, he managed to get his squad-mates injured...or worse. He's momentarily distracted by thoughts of his fallen subordinates; Knight Whitham, Scribe Hewett, Scribe Begg, Initiate Feldman...he was the first to go, the Initiate. He was young, barely old enough to grow stubble, but he insisted on being part of the team. In no more than twenty-four hours, the boy was dead. Not his fault, but the fault of his commanding officer. It always is.

A growl over Danse's shoulder catches his attention, but he's not quick enough in his power armor to dispatch the ghoul before it reaches him. The Paladin instead raises his arm, hoping to block his attacker, but the expected impact never comes. The shot of a sniper rifle rings in his ears, loud and clear even through the blood-curdling, gravelly moans of the monsters around him. The ghoul directly in front of him lies dead at his feet, a.308 round embedded in the back of its withered head. With no time to search the buildings across the street for this mystery sniper, Danse unloads cell after cell into the shambling monsters and doesn't stop until each and every one of them is dead on the pavement.

He hears the sniper continue to shoot around him, ghouls dropping after each shot, without fail. Whoever this is, they're a fucking crack shot.

It doesn't take long to dispatch all the hostiles, and Danse takes a moment to scan the upper windows and roofs of the crumbling brick buildings in front of him. He sees nothing at first and assumes that his savior had already moved on, opting not to show themselves to people who might otherwise be hostile. He's about to turn to help Haylen move Rhys into the police station when he catches movement in the top-floor window of a red-brick building to his left. It's quick and just barely noticeable, but the Paladin is sure he saw a person pass by the darkened window. He steps forward towards the entrance of their makeshift sandbag fortification that spans around the entrance of the station just as a woman emerges from the building across the street. A dog trails close behind her, tongue lolling out of his mouth happily as he trots along.

A rifle is holstered on her back and a tattered leather messenger bag bumps against her camouflage-clad hip as she walks towards him. Danse doesn't want to appear outwardly hostile -- she did help him, after all. But years of Brotherhood training have taught him to never let his guard down, and he's not about to betray his instincts just to appear civil. His finger sits on the barrel of his rifle, just shy of the trigger, and he holds it across his chest as the woman stops in front of him. She sinks down into one hip, giving the Paladin a nonchalant once-over as though he isn't towering more than a foot over her in his power armor. The dog takes up a place on her right side, planting his haunches firmly on the ground next to her. He looks up at Danse with curious eyes.

"Identify yourself, citizen." Danse's voice is stern and authoritative. There was a time, when he first became a Paladin, when he would have to consciously use his Commanding Officer voice when issuing orders. That time has since long passed. _I don't even have a regular voice anymore_ , he thinks. Regardless of his tone, the civilian looks rather unimpressed. She stands before him in silence for a moment, and Danse wonders briefly if his first civilian encounter in the Commonwealth will be an unpleasant one.

Fortunately for the Brotherhood Paladin, the woman cooperates without protest. "My name's Jane Mclaren." She gestures to the multitude of dead ghouls on the ground behind Danse. "Heard the gunshots, thought you might need some help."

Danse nods his thanks. "We appreciate your assistance, civilian. But what's your business here?"

"I was just passing through." She shifts her weight to the other hip, her brown ponytail swinging with the movement. Glancing down, Danse sees her fingers absentmindedly drumming on the 10mm pistol strapped to her thigh. He's suspicious of the traveler on instinct, but there's something about this woman that makes him especially uneasy. Maybe it's the mysterious glint in her green eyes, or the way she seems completely unaffected by his authority, Danse isn't sure. If he knows one thing, though, it's that he doesn't trust her one bit.

"If you want to remain in this compound, citizen, I suggest you give me a proper answer to my question." As always, Danse becomes hostile without a second thought. He doesn't mean to come off so unfriendly, but if this woman isn't here to help, he can only assume the worst of her. If she's not with the Brotherhood, she's against them. Simple as that.

Jane holds her hands out in front of her in protest. "Woah there, big guy. I said I was just passing through and I mean it. I've got no desire to stay here, trust me." Danse narrows his eyes suspiciously at her and she shakes her head at him, one eyebrow raised in sarcastic disbelief. He can almost hear disapproval through her facial expressions. She sighs and opens the flap of her messenger bag before rummaging around in its contents. "Look, I've got some-" She stops mid-sentence as Danse points his rifle at her, distrustful of what she's looking for in the bag. She rolls her eyes at him with such intensity Danse thinks for a moment that they might just roll right out of her head. "Christ, man," she grumbles. "Not everyone is out to get you, for fuck's sake." Slowly, she lifts her hands out of the satchel, clutching four stimpacks. She reaches out, offering them to the man in front of her, who is forced to take his rifle off of her to grab them. "For your friend over there," she jerks her chin to where Rhys is still slumped against the wall. "He looks a little worse for wear."

The Paladin's face warms slightly, almost imperceptibly, as he takes the stims from her outstretched palms. "Thank you, citizen." Jane offers him a slight tilt of her head in response.

"That concludes our business, I suppose." She mumbles, looking down to fiddle with the complicated-looking device strapped to her wrist. Danse hadn't noticed it until now. She turns a knob and clicks a few small buttons on the side, and the machine seems to whir to life. The sound of radio static drifts through the space around them before the machine tunes into the proper station. "Good luck out here." The woman says, looking back up at Danse and giving him a mock salute, nothing more than two fingers pressed briefly to her forehead. "C'mon, bud." She murmurs to the dog at her side.

She pivots on one foot away from the Paladin and, without so little as another word or a quick glance, she starts down the road away from him. Her dog isn't far behind. It's a funny sight to see, a lone woman holding a sniper rifle meandering down the bomb-cracked irradiated streets of post-war Boston as though she hasn't got a care in the world. Faintly, Danse can hear the music playing from her radio as he watches her go.

_I was walking along, minding my business, when out of an orange-colored sky..._

_Flash!_

_Bam!_

_Alakazam!_

_Wonderful you came by..._

_I was hummin' a tune, drinkin' in sunshine, when out of that orange colored view..._

_Flash!_

_Bam!_

_Alakazam!_

_I got a look at you..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is really short but it's better than nothing, I guess ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. Look What the Cat Dragged In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :))))) anotha one

As of late, Danse finds the mysterious woman -- Jane, she had called herself -- invading his thoughts more than is likely acceptable. He knows he has other things to be worried about, but he finds it hard not to wonder about her. She not only shows up out of nowhere and helps his team without any hesitation, but she also gives him medical supplies despite him aiming his rifle at her head with unmasked suspicion. He doesn't wonder why she didn't stick around; he was obviously less than hospitable, but he can't help but question whether or not he'll ever see her again. The Commonwealth is a big place; what are the chances they may run into each other a second time? Lucky for the Paladin, his questions are answered sooner than he ever would have expected.

It's only a week after the initial feral attack and Danse is on watch, pacing back and forth in front of the peeling white wooden doors to the station. They're much too flimsy for his liking, but he's got nothing to barricade them with. They'd have to do for now, he supposes. To his left, Haylen is sitting at a table and fiddling with radio parts she pilfered from the beacon on the roof. Between tending to an injured Rhys and trying to get communications up and running to contact the rest of the Brotherhood, Danse has noticed the scribe hasn't gotten much sleep since they set up camp in the police station. Somewhere in the corner of the main room, Rhys is dozing in a sleeping bag, ordered by Haylen to get as much rest as possible until he's fully healed. Danse can hear his soft snores, even through the loud stomping of his own power armor as he makes his rounds.

For a moment, Danse feels calm, maybe even safe in the decrepit old building. The floorboards creak quietly under his feet as he comes to a standstill, listening to the soft clinks of Haylen's screwdriver as she rummages around in a complicated-looking radio transmitter. Rhys takes a deep breath and turns over in his bedroll, and the Paladin hears the swish of the fabric as the Knight settles back into a comfortable position. Everything is peaceful, until three loud thuds on the front door catch everyone's attention. 

Haylen rises from her chair, one hand poised over the pistol holstered at her hip, and Rhys sits bolt upright in his sleeping bag. Rifle at the ready, Danse walks over to the door and turns the knob, mentally preparing himself for whatever may be waiting on the other side. In one quick movement, the soldier swings the door open and points his rifle at the unexpected visitor. Much to the man's surprise, staring down the barrel of his rifle are a pair of green eyes, wide with surprise but glassy with exhaustion. Slowly, Danse lowers his gun.

With a small smile, Jane offers a weary wave. "Hi there. Long time no see, soldier." It doesn't take the Paladin long to see the dark stain of blood soaking her left pant leg as the woman sways unsteadily on her feet. He puts one hand on her shoulder to steady her. 

"You're injured." Danse states matter-of-factly.

 Jane has to physically restrain herself from rolling her eyes. "Yeah, well. I got into a gunfight with some gunners, one of them got me in the leg. Wouldn't have been a problem, had I not given the last of my stims to you." She smiles sheepishly. Then, more quietly, she adds: "I wasn't sure where else to go."

It doesn't take Danse long to decide what to do. This woman seems genuine enough and he supposes he owes it to her to help like she did for him and his squad. "Can you walk?" He asks. Jane looks a little taken aback at his comment, as if she hadn't expected him to help. He wonders briefly why she came here if she had expected him to turn her away.

Danse ushers the civilian into the police station and Haylen wastes no time on getting her on a sleeping bag to inspect the damage. She's noticeably paler than when he last saw her, the circles under her eyes darker, her cheeks just slightly more gaunt. How far had she walked on that injured leg just to get back here? She'd obviously lost a lot of blood on the trek over, and Haylen is quick to pick up on that. "I'm going to need to put on a tourniquet to stop the bleeding." Her blue eyes move to look a Danse. "Paladin? I'm going to need some cloth."

As if snapped out of a trance, Danse practically scrambles over to his belongings, grabbing a t-shirt and ripping a strip off the bottom. He hands the cloth to Haylen, who takes it with a grateful nod. "Jane? I'm going to need you to stay awake with me here. Do you hear me? You have to keep your eyes open." Jane blinks up at the woman in front of her, once, twice, three times. She's fading fast, and Danse can do nothing but watch as Haylen begins to cut away at the camouflage fabric of Jane's pant leg. She makes a quiet noise of protest at this, trying and failing to bat Haylen's hands away from her.

"I like these pants." She slurs, and the Scribe offers her a tight smile.

"I have to do this if you want to survive, Jane."

The woman stops her weak protests, letting her hands thump down on the sleeping bag beside her. The yellow material is now slick with blood. Danse swallows nervously, and Haylen begins to tie the cloth around Jane's leg, pulling tight on the knot to cut off circulation. Jane lets out a low hiss of pain "Fuck."

Haylen squeezes the other woman's shoulder reassuringly. "I know it hurts, but it needs to be done." Jane nods, though it doesn't seem as though she has any clue what the Scribe is saying. "What I need you to do right now, Jane, is just stay awake with me, okay? Just keep your eyes open."

"Okay." Jane murmurs as her eyes slide shut. Haylen lightly shakes her shoulder, calls her name a few times, makes a few loud noises, but the injured woman is dead to the world. The Scribe lets out a defeated sigh.

From across the room, Paladin Danse's voice catches everyone's attention. "What else can we do for her?" 

Haylen presses two fingers under the woman's jaw. "She has a pulse. Faint, but it's there. I'll keep the tourniquet on for another 10 minutes and then see if the bleeding's stopped." She pinches the bridge of her nose tightly between her thumb and forefinger, tying to suppress the headache that has been pounding between her eyes for the last five days. Between that and her wildly racing heart, Haylen is starting to think she might need to start getting more than eight hours of sleep a week. "We don't have any stimpacks left, so I'll have to remove the bullet and stitch her up the old fashioned way." The young woman stands to rifle through her bag, which is still sitting on the table next to the forgotten radio parts. "Rhys, I'm gonna need some of the whiskey from your stash."

It takes an hour to remove the bullet from Jane's thigh and stitch up her wound. Luckily, no major arteries were hit, but she lost so much blood Danse is surprised she's still breathing. He watches Haylen's every move as she digs around in the lesion, trying to remove the bullet with a tiny pair of tweezers without disturbing any of the newly clotted blood vessels. He's not quite so sure why he's so invested in this civilian's survival, but he doesn't have much time to think about it as he brings Haylen the equipment she needs while simultaneously trying to keep watch. He just hopes all of this work isn't in vain.

* * *

 

Jane is awake again less than twelve hours later, some of the colour returned to her face. Danse is leaning against a wall near her sleeping bag, still on watch while Haylen and Rhys get their much-needed rest. He can't remember the last time he got a solid six hours of sleep, but as the leader of his recon team, he's more than happy to forfeit a few hours of shut-eye if it means his squadmates have the chance to recharge. He happens to be looking in Jane's direction when she regains consciousness, her eyes fluttering open to stare at an unfamiliar ceiling. He sees a look of confusion cross her features as she tries to figure out where she is, followed by recognition when she remember's the day's events. Slowly, she sits up, back propped against the wall behind her. He makes eye contact with her from his place across the room, and she acknowledges him with a nod. He pushes off the wall to make his way toward her, power armor clunking loudly as he does so.

"How are you feeling, civilian?" He asks.

Jane takes a moment to assess the damage, looking herself over. Haylen had given her a new pair of pants, but new clothes do nothing for the dull throb that pulses in her thigh with each heartbeat. "The leg hurts like a bitch, but other than that, I'm fine." There's a moment of silence between the two, the air in the police station hushed and still around them. "Thank you. For helping me." Her eyes are serious and sincere, and Danse is slightly thrown off by her change in demeanor. Up until now she'd not spoken a single serious sentence, and the candor Danse sees in her eyes is almost unsettling.

He's about to reply to her when she shoots bolt upright, eyes wide and urgent. "Shit!" She turns to Danse with a panicked expression. "Where's my dog?"

Danse does vaguely remember the dog sitting next to her when she showed up at the front doors of the station just hours earlier, but he's sure the animal didn't come in with her. Maybe he had shut the door too fast behind her as Haylen was helping her in? He makes a beeline for the front entrance and opens up the doors. Like the most loyal of pets, the German Shepard is lying on the steps, head resting on his front paws as he waits patiently for his owner to come collect him. He raises his head to look at Danse as the door swings open, and, almost as if he understands what's happening, the dog trots right past him and into the police station. He plants himself faithfully at Jane's side on the floor, looking over at the woman with such affection it's as though he hadn't seen her in months. Jane is beaming while scratching her pet lovingly between the ears, turning to Danse as he re-enters the room. "Thank you. So much. Again, I guess." Her grin is almost contagious. Almost. 

The two sit in silence for a moment as Jane gets reacquainted with her beloved dog, and Danse takes the moment to inspect the strange woman. If he's being honest, she looks harmless. There's nothing particularly intimidating about her freckles and petite stature, but as he eyes the sniper rifle lying on the counter near him, the soldier reminds himself that she's quite the force to be reckoned with. He still can't quite pin her down, can't read her expressions too well, nor can he guess her intentions or motivations. She still makes him uneasy in that way. He was never comfortable with ambiguity. He supposes she's simply harder to read than others, and he'll figure it out eventually. He always does.

"-catch your name." He only hears the end of her sentence, too lost in thought to realize she was speaking to him.   

"Pardon?" He blurts out tactfully.

Jane lets out a breathy laugh and shakes her head slightly. "I never did catch your name, soldier." For some reason, her small smirk makes the tips of his ears feel warm.

"Paladin Danse, with the Brotherhood of Steel."

He sees no look of recognition on Jane's at the mention of the Brotherhood, but she nods nonetheless.

"It's nice to finally officially meet you, Paladin Danse."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to all the wonderful people who commented and gave kudos on the last two chapters even though there's only like 14 of you !!!!! lol


	4. Call to Arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m not super happy with this but I’m tired of reading it over and over trying to figure out what to fix so here it is lads

The hike to ArcJet Systems is a relatively quiet one, though Jane has come to realize that silence is Paladin Danse's default setting. He's spoken only a few words to her since she'd woken up in the police station, confused and in pain. As soon as she could walk properly again, the Paladin had asked for her help on a recon mission to retrieve some signal transmitter for his team. She had accepted the offer without much thought, but the longer she travels in silence the more she begins to wonder if it was a good idea. Dogmeat trots happily beside her, nails clicking quietly on the cracked asphalt with each step he takes. The woman glaces down at her dog, who looks back up at her with a canine smile. His tongue lolls out of his mouth and Jane smirks. "If only you could talk, eh boy? Would make traveling more entertaining, at least."

From his spot in front of her, Danse spares a glace back at his newest traveling companion. "Did you say something, civilian?"

Jane is startled by the sound of his voice. "I ah...no, it's nothing." The Paladin nods curtly and turns his back to her again without another word. The brunette sighs. 

"Jane."

Danse stops walking for a moment to look back at her. His brows are furrowed in puzzlement as he meets her gaze. She's shifted her weight on to one hip, holding her sniper rifle across her chest. "I beg your pardon?" The Paladin asks, confused.

"That's my name." 

"I"m very aware of that." 

Jane sighs for what feels like the millionth time today. "I would prefer if you used it."

Danse isn't sure whether he should reprimand her for being insubordinate or simply drop the subject. He knows it's not a problem to use her name, but something about the woman just makes him want to press her buttons. He's still curious about what makes her tick. "Does it really matter what I call you?"

"Yes, it does." The Paladain watches as her fingers twitch around the barrel of her gun. He eyes her for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to concede. Danse isn't quite sure why he's being so difficult with the civilian. Maybe he just wants to see how much she can take before she cracks.

The silence seems to drag on for an eternity before Danse speaks. "Alright, Jane. If that's what you want." She nods her thanks and some of the tension releases from her shoulders and her fingers relax around her rifle. "Now that that's settled, we have to keep moving." 

And the silent hike continues.

 

* * *

 

Robots are littered throughout the building, smashed to pieces. Jane steps gingerly around the sparking circuit boards and metal limbs, picking her way through the metal carnage towards Paladin Danse. He's kneeling on the ground across the room, inspecting the wreckage at his feet. "Looks like the building's security has already been dealt with." Despite the discovery, he looks concerned.

Sanding beside her partner, Jane glances at the rubble strewn about. "There's no blood, though. No bullet casings either." On the wall across from her, she spots a black burn mark. "Someone was using energy weapons, but who?"

The Paladin stands, a grave expression crossing his features. "Not who, what. This is likely the work of Institute synths."

At the mention of the Institute, Jane stiffens. She's been searching for those assholes for almost two months now, to no avail. Until that Diamond City detective comes back from his latest case, she's at a loss. She knows that every moment she doesn't spend looking for her nephew is another step farther away from finding him, but she honestly has no idea where to go. Nobody has any solid information on the shadowy organization, and the only things Jane  _had_ heard sounded like old scary stories kids used to tell at sleepovers when she was in fifth grade. She hates feeling so useless when she knows he's out there, and that he needs her help.

_Focus,_ she reminds herself. _You can worry about Shaun once you're out of this building._

Danse looks over to the woman beside him only to find her completely lost in thought. A muscle in her jaw jumps repeatedly as she subconsciously presses her teeth together. "Alright," She jumps at the sound of his voice, but quickly composes herself. "Let's push forward." She nods, moving past him and into the next room. Danse wonders briefly what she was thinking about.

 

* * *

 

 "Danse!" Jane calls to her partner as she steps away from the terminal. "I've restored the auxiliary power, the elevator should work now!"

"Good work!" Danse calls back, meeting Jane's gaze through the window in front of him. She smiles at him as she rounds the corner into the control room, and Danse is struck for a moment with the strange feeling that this woman and her contagious smile might become a problem for him. He makes a mental note to try and recruit her if they succeed in retrieving the Deep Range Transmitter. She'd be a promising initiate to sponsor, he's sure.

He sees Jane's mouth open as if to speak, but she's cut short by something, her eyes turning upwards to the stairs over his head. From the corner of his eye, Danse spots movement above him. He hears Jane call out a warning to him as synths, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, begin to flood the room. He hears the skittering of metal against concrete as they crawl down the walls towards him, while others simply opt to jump down from the upper levels. He does his best to dispatch as many of the rogue machines as he can, but he can only move so fast and the robots are appearing faster than he can kill them. He's staggered as a synth slugs him in the back with a shock baton with a metallic thud, leaving a long dent in his power armor. He feels the electricity from the weapon crawl over his skin as he jams the butt of his rifle into the robot's face. Another grabs his arm, attempting to tear the power armor right off of its frame. He spares a glace over at Jane, who is still standing in the control room, one hand hovering over the rocket's launch button. Of course.

"Press it!" He yells, punching through the torso of the synth latched to his arm. As soon as it hits the floor, another takes its place. Jane's eyes are wide with panic.

"You'll burn alive!"

"Press it, Jane!" He's tackled to the ground as another robot jumps on his back with superhuman force. As he tries to get back to his feet, he sees Jane's fist slam down on the button. The countdown seems to take an eternity, and synths continue to drop down from the ceiling even as the robotic voice narrates the seconds leading up to the rocket's activation. He's run out of fusion cells at this point, forced to tear though the machines with his hands. 

"Three." He crushes a synth's head underneath his metal boot. "Two." A blue laser whizzes past his face, singing the side of his hood. "One." A synth drops from the ceiling above, directly on top of him. The room is filled with a blinding white light as the engine core's rocket powers up and the roar of the machinery is deafening in his ears. He can do nothing to protect himself from the heat except shield his face with his arms, praying that his power armor is enough to keep him from being cooked alive by the flames.

When his ears are finally met with silence, Danse can hardly believe he's still breathing. He's kneeling on the ground, arms still covering his face, when he hears the doors to the control room slide open. "Danse!" Jane is yelling as she runs towards him. He lifts his head to see her crouched in front of him, green eyes full of concern as she peers at his face. "Are you okay? Is your face burned at all?" She reaches a hand towards his cheek but pulls it back before she can touch him. 

"I'm fine. Wouldn't have made it without my armor." He moves to stand, and Jane follows suit. He sways for a moment, disoriented and overheated, and Jane places a steadying hand on his shoulder only to immediately flinch back when she realizes the metal of his armor is still hot. She holds the hand to her chest with a frown, looking up at the man in front if her. They're silent for a few beats, neither knowing exactly what to say, before a small smile forms on Jane's lips. A few incredulous giggles escape her, the burned hand coming up to cover her mouth as she continues to laugh.

"Holy shit, Danse!" Her incredulity is apparent in her voice as she presses both hands to the sides of her head. "I can't believe that just happened! I can't believe you're still alive! That is the  _craziest_   thing I've ever seen in my life!" Danse can't help but chuckle at the woman's wild expression. The experience had been a shock, but they're both alive and that's what matters, he supposes. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine," The Paladin shakes his head, but a small, almost imperceptible smile still remains on his lips. "We still need to find the Transmitter, so let's get upstairs."

"Back to business, then." Jane mumbles as she follows Danse over to the elevator, boots stained black with the ashes of what used to be Institute synths.

 

* * *

 

 

 "You want me to join the Brotherhood?" Jane isn't sure if she'd heard the man's offer correctly. "Me, the random civilian who almost burned you to a crisp?"

Danse sighs. He had suspected the conversation would go something like this. "You have potential." When her expression remains unsure, he adds: "Look. You can continue wandering from place to place, offering an extra hand for a meager reward. Or, you could join the Brotherhood of Steel and help make a mark on the world." The brunette bites her lip, and Danse can tell she's considering his offer. 

"What would you expect of me, if I joined?" Her voice is apprehensive but curious.

"You'd be under my command, and you'd be expected to follow my orders. Do you have any military experience at all?"

"My brother...he was in the army, so I understand the basics, but I have no personal experience." Jane pauses, brows furrowing. "Danse, I really don't understand why you'd want me as part of this group. I'm definitely not equipped for it."

The Paladin fixes her with a stern look. Though the mission could have gone smoother and she could have followed his instructions with less protesting, Danse knows she'd make a fine soldier. "You need to have more faith in yourself." Jane offers no response. She simply continues to chew on her lip apprehensively. "Don't you want to be a part of something bigger than yourself? You know our cause is noble."

Jane can't exactly argue, but the organization seems a little extremist. How would they feel about her friendship with Hancock? Would they condemn her for not killing the ghoul on first sight? She simply can’t reject the existence of moral shades of grey. Not every ghoul is evil, though she’s not sure she can say the same about synths. Jane knows, however, that the Brotherhoos has access to all kinds of technology and information, assets she could surely use to find Shaun. He's her first priority, and if she has to go against her best judgement to find him, so be it. "Alright, Danse." She stands up straight, meeting his serious stare with one of her own. "I'll join." She tells herself she's doing it for Shaun, and she is, but a selfish part of her, buried deep within herself, yearns for a sense of belonging. She'd found friends in the wastes, sure, but her life had been nothing but chaos since she had stumbled out of the vault just months before. Her brother murdered and her nephew kidnapped, Jane had found herself lost and alone in an unfamiliar place she used to call home. It had left her with a hole that she couldn't seem to fill. She looks back up at Danse, lips pressed together in a thin line as she prepares herself for the inevitable challenges that lie ahead of her.

"Welcome to the Brotherhood of Steel, Initiate."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel like I’m making Danse too friendly :/ I worry I’m not really writing him properly??? hopefully it’s still realistic


	5. Need Some Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> took me forever to just sit down and write this aaaaaa why am i like this

The longer Jane travels with Paladin Danse, the more she comes to enjoy her time with him. He’s good with his laser rifle, he’s always got her back, and, most importantly, he sometimes laughs at her jokes. 

Their conversations are short but frequent as they trek across the wasteland together, trading survival tips or stupid stories. Jane’s learned some things about Danse — where he grew up, how he joined the Brotherhood, his slow climb up the organization’s ranks — Danse told her all of it willingly. If there’s one thing she likes the most about the man, it’s that he doesn’t pry. Not that she doesn’t trust him with her personal information, she just isn’t quite ready to talk about it yet. 

The sun is beginning to set over the Commonwealth’s craggy horizon as Danse and Jane clear some ghouls out of an old shack, and the Paladin surveys his surroundings. 

“This could be a good place to set up camp.” He says, eyeing the rapidly darkening sky. Jane hums her agreement as she begins searching for some food in her bag, holding out some for Danse as well. The shack is small, but the walls are standing and the roof is free of holes, so it’ll have to do. There was a time when Jane would balk at the idea of sleeping anywhere but her soft bed in her own home, but that time has long since passed. A lot can change in 200 years.

The two sit in silence on the front porch of the small building as they eat. Danse’s power armour is standing off to the side, a sentinel standing watch as they enjoy a few moments in peace. Jane thinks back to that trip to ArcJet just a few weeks ago and how uncomfortable she had felt with the Paladin’s silence. She likes it now, a few moments of comfortable solace in which she can just relax. When Danse is around, Jane doesn’t feel the need to fill the silence with words. 

As always, Danse insists on taking first watch. Jane offers a meek protest, but a stern look from her senior officer sends her shuffling quietly in the shack towards her sleeping bag without further issue. It’s the same yellow one she almost bled out on about three weeks ago, and the faint stains still remain on the fabric. She runs her fingers over the discoloured area with a snort. So much has changed. Not only the world around her, but Jane herself was a different woman now from the one who stepped out of that vault. This wasteland has shaped her, altered her in ways she can’t reverse. What would Nate think of her now? 

She fiddles with her Pip-Boy for a moment, popping open the holotape slot and sliding the small orange cartridge out. Codsworth had given it to her when she emerged from Vault 111, scared, confused, and barely with enough time to mourn the cold-blooded murder of her beloved brother. She had kept the holotape safely in her Pip-Boy during her various treks across the Commonwealth, but not once in those three months had she hit play. 

Her finger always hovers over the button, unable to move just a few more millimeters. Some part of her just wants to forget about her prewar past, throw away all the memories and move forward in this new world with a clean slate. Another part, a more pragmatic one, knows that her past will always follow her.

She slides the holotape back into its place with a shaky sigh before lying down on her sleeping bag. There’s a tiny hole in the tin roof above her, only small enough to see a single star shining in the deep blue of the night sky. Jane’s aware of the infinite number of other stars that exist in the universe, but in that moment, it seems as though there’s only one. Alone in a sky full of billions. Sounds familiar.

Jane rolls on to her side, letting her eyes slide closed, but she knows sleep will be elusive tonight even before her eyes are shut. She tosses and turns for what feels like an eternity, and though the silence she hears the floorboards creak from the porch outside. She had almost forgotten about Paladin Danse keeping watch. She debates with herself for a moment, wondering if he would even want her company as he’s trying to stay sharp and alert, but for some reason Jane feels as if she cannot stand another moment of being alone.

Her sock-muffled footsteps on the floor are almost silent, but Danse isn’t phased when Jane sits down next to him. He glances at her briefly as she makes herself comfortable, knees pulled up to her chest and hands pulled back into the sleeves of her dirty sweatshirt. Something briefly crosses his features, an indecipherable expression flashing though his eyes. It’s so quick Jane isn’t even sure she really saw it happen.

His voice is deep and slightly raspy from hours of silence. “Can’t sleep, soldier?”

Jane shakes her head and a piece of hair slips out of her ponytail as she does so. She tucks it behind her ear as she looks up at her Paladin, gauging his reaction. He glances down at her again, but looks away as soon as their eyes meet. Jane swears that she sees that mystery expression cross his features again, but it’s still too quick to tell.

“I understand the feeling.” He says. His voice is softer than usual, without it’s normal authoritative edge. For the first time since she’d met the man, Jane feels as though she’s speaking to a real person rather than a military poster-boy. 

Jane hums her agreement at his statement. “You don’t seem like the kind to get too much sleep. No offence, of course.”

Suprisingly, Danse lets out a low chuckle. It’s a pleasing sound, low and warm. “No, you’re right. Not too much time to rest in the Brotherhood.”

They’re silent for the next few minutes and once again Jane is struck with how content she is just to sit in silence with the Paladin. She normally feels the need to fill quiet moments with useless small talk, but Danse is a simple man. If you have something to say, say it. If you don’t, then what’s the point of wasting your breath? It’s comforting to not have her brain constantly running at 100mph trying to think of things to say.

Jane is suprised when Danse breaks the comfortable silence. He’s never usually the one to initiate conversation. “A few weeks ago, when I recruited you,” He stares off into the dark horizon as he speaks and Jane twiddles her thumbs in her lap. “You said your brother was in the army. Was it a local militia? Or was it something bigger?”

Jane smirks. Of course he would ask about the military. She begins to form a lie, build a story to avoid revealing personal information but...why? Why can’t she just tell him the truth? They’d been traveling together for long enough. “He was in the United States Army. A lieutenant.”

Danse’s brow furrows in confusion and Jane stares at the lines forming between his eyebrows. “I’m not sure I follow, Initiate. The United States Army hasn’t existed for...” he trails off as he tries to do the math in his head.

“Two hundred and ten years.” Jane finishes for him. Danse looks even more confused, and Jane can’t help but let out a small laugh. “I was born in 2052. Twenty five years before the bombs fell.”

The Paladin looks her over with disbelief. If what she’s saying is true, it explains her perfect scarless skin, as well as her familiarity of downtown Boston’s streets, as though she’d walked them a thousand times despite the raiders and super mutants riddled throughout. But...”There’s no way you can be two hundred and thirty five years old.”

Jane’s small smile is amused, but Danse can see it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. There’s something else to her story, obviously. Something bad.

“Vault-Tech was testing the limits of cryotechnology in Vault 111. I just happened to be one of the lucky unsuspecting participants.”

Danse is incredulous. “Cryotechnology? How did you get out? Are there others?” 

Jane eyes him for a moment. He’s obviously enthusiastic about her story, but she can’t help but wonder if his interest in the subject doesn’t involve her so much as it involves the organization he’s so hopelessly devoted to. If the Brotherhood tried to harness the tech in that vault, would they use it on some other poor bastard just like it was used on her? Rip someone away from everyone and everything they’ve ever loved in the name of science? Her view of her hands in her lap becomes blurry as her eyes fill with tears. Danse, confused by her silence, leans down slightly to peer at her face, and is taken aback at the sight of the water sliding down her cheeks. Had she not been the one crying, she would have laughed at the man’s apparent fear of tears. 

“Um...” Danse pauses, scrambling for something coherent to say. “Jane?”

Her stomach flops at the sound of her own name and she turns to him with a watery smile. “Sorry.” She reaches up to wipe the tears from her face with the back of her hand before continuing. “My brother was in the vault with me. He had his son with him as well. I don’t know how long ago it was, but someone broke into the vault, tried to take my nephew right out of Nate’s arms. They shot him and took the baby. I was locked in my pod the whole time. The only thing I could do was watch...” She heaves out a shaky sigh, squeezing her eyes tightly shut to push back some newly formed tears. “Eventually the system malfunctioned and let me out, and here we are.” Her lower lip starts to wobble and her voice shakes on the last words. Even though Jane would rather not weep in front of her new commanding officer, the blooming sadness in her chest is hard to shove down.

Danse doesn’t say anything for a long while as Jane holds in her sobs, biting down on her lower lip so hard it begins to bleed. The coppery taste on her tongue distracts her enough to control her breathing, inhaling and exhaling deeply to calm her shaking muscles. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” She whispers.

”I’m sorry.” Is all Danse says, and though it may not be the most eloquent response to such a tragic story, Jane appreciates it all the same.

Neither person gets any sleep that night. They stare silently out at the horizon for hours, no exchanged glances nor small conversations. At some point, Danse places a reassuring hand on Jane’s shoulder. The warmth and pressure is a comforting reassurance that she’s here, alive and in the moment, and not dreaming in a freezing slumber, waiting for someone to free her. His hand doesn’t move from its place there until the sun rises the next morning and for that, she is grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m honestly surprised I’ve been able to write in chronological order for this long lol


End file.
